Misadventures in the Land of Fables #52
Fables are full of implausible alliances between animals. One of the most incongruous is the friendship that develops between the monkey and the crocodile in the tale that opens Book IV of the Panchatantra. The incongruity is not played for laughs, unlike the tortoise who persuades two geese to carry him away. No, these two dudes just hang out and eat fruit.
A monkey lives in a rose-apple tree. One day, in a spirit of generosity, it throws one of the fruits to a passing crocodile. The croc likes it—it takes like nectar. And the two become friends. That seems cool, though I have some trouble picturing them together. Does the monkey sit on the ground by the side of this deadly predator or does he descend only as far as the lowest branch?
No matter, the friendship doesn’t last.
The crocodile has a wife and he brings a rose-apple home for her. She likes it, too well. The rose-apple is no ordinary fruit. It’s a divine gift, and the crocodile’s wife seems to appreciate its value better than her husband. Reasoning that the heart of a creature whose diet is exclusively rose-apple must store a concentration of its ambrosial qualities, she demands her husband bring the monkey for—ahem, to dinner. She doesn’t have time to hang out and snack on fruit. Her husband agrees to her demand.
The rendition of this tale as quoted in Walton Ford’s ‘Panchatantra’ (originally published here: Folktales from India) ends at this point. A cute decision, because the last act is the reason I’d discounted the idea of revising the tale. The ending was too implausible. The crocodile husband too dumb. At the same time, concluding with his acquiescence to his wife’s demands places too great an emphasis on her jealousy and manipulation. I’ll be blunt. I could do without that element of the story.
Crocodiles tend to be monogamous, but they do not form domestic pairs with defined gender roles in which moms stay at home and covet rejuvenatory products, while hubby brings them dinner and gifts. All crocs fend for themselves, even their young are born ready for the hunt. So, enough of that shit. (Then again, a love triangle in which one of the partners declares their wish to eat the rival, that’s kind of interesting.)
No, the element that intrigued was the question of how to approach your spirituality. The generosity of the monkey in this respect—unusual in fables; the gentleness of the friendship and the pacification of the crocodile’s carnivorous nature, which is overthrown by the partner’s impatient cupidity (is that the word?). Ultimately, it was the crocodile’s sense of loss that captivated me. (The theme of Book IV is ‘Loss of gains.’)
It was here that I started and, after a few false trails, it was here that I ended up.
Read: ‘The Monkey and the Crocodiles‘.
